Dress Whites

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Being summoned to Dac wasn't the first choice on Cirrsseeto's list of things to do, but he was a fast learner. Even in a sometimes-informal outfit like the Alliance Navy, you had obligations to meet that couldn't be ducked. Didn't mean you couldn't shuffle your feet a little.

The holo-flimsy with his orders lay on the hangar deck of Challenger while he worked. The Black Cat's frame was held aloft a meter high by an antigrav harness, it's bare frame exposed in places where the felinoid had stripped components off, to effect a massive repair / upgrade project. The deck around the shuttle was strewn with parts and tools in a slapdash clutter, with Cirr resting on his back underneath, torquing a spanner while wearing sweat-dampened PT shorts and a tank.

This was his sanctuary.

He'd been at work for twelve hours, stripping down and rebuilding whatever he thought could stand a reworking. Master Chief Kochanski had swung by with a pallet full of liberated parts and useable floatsam. She stuck around for a bit of silent moral support as he worked, before wishing him well and leaving. Cirr was tired and strung out, but relentless. He'd tear the damn thing down and build it up as many times as he could, because this was simple. Stopping and having to think about the weeks past and the aftermath? That was hard.

A bolt fell from its carriage, rolling across the deck. His hand shot out a second too late to catch it, and it bounced out of his reach.

"Shjit."

He didn't bother. He worked the other bolts loose, and pulled another panel free, staring at the guts of a power relay that the reader unit insisted was tip-top. It should be, he'd optimized it yesterday. He checked it again, hoping to find something else.